Sonnet fer Buster

Three things about him left their mark on me--
Surprising, since we only shared a day.
And even as I try to write them down,
The first--his scent--begins to fade away.
The hymn we sang--A Closer Walk With Thee--
Has also made a nest within my space,
But not to stay. As soon as I leave town
Another song is sure to take its place.
The third, and strangest, thing he let me share
Was really nothing stronger than a hint.
I started saying "thayre" instead of "there,"
As though I had developed an accent.
And this, a lovely parting gift, will pass
As soon and surely as Kentucky grass.

* * *
Why is it I can write poems for the dogs in my life, but the truly deserving escape capture (in ink and grasp)? >sigh<